Eager
by emmylouuwho
Summary: 4.06. Pure Jess/Becker post-bomb fluff.


Becker had never been so angry in his life as he was that night, a few hours after the bomb. He'd dealt with bombs before, both real ones and fake, in the field and in training; he had done a tour in Afghanistan four years ago, and seen friends of his killed by IEDs. But none of those situations filled him with the consuming anger he felt a few hours ago, that almost covered the fear. Fear not for himself or his own life, but for someone else. For Jess.

Even now, sitting safely back in his office in the ARC, writing up his report on the incident, Becker felt his hands shaking as he remembered the moment when Jess walked into that room. The room which held a bomb powerful enough to level a building. Seconds before that moment, he'd been hoping, praying, that the underground garage would be protected from the blast_. At least Jess will be okay_, he'd thought. Then he had seen her terrified face as she pulled that tarp off the bomb. Terror and disbelief.

Then, of course, Becker had acted like a complete idiot. Not only had Jess kept her cool in the field, but she'd also diffused a bomb, something she was never trained to do. She had come running over to him, her face alight with relief and triumph, with _life_, and thrown herself into his arms. Then his men showed up and he had acted like a prat, practically ignoring her.

Becker leaned back from the computer, which held his half-finished incident report, rubbing his hands across his face. Staring blankly at the screen, he racked his brain, which felt oddly wired this late at night, for a way to fix it, to make it up to Jess. He glanced down at his watch. _4:22 am._ _Perfect,_ he thought,_ Just enough time to grab a few hours' sleep._ He'd sleep on it, he decided, switching off the computer.

* * *

><p>Jess carpooled to work with Abby and Connor the next morning. One of Becker's soldiers had driven her home from Ethan's flat after the whole bomb situation in one of the ARC trucks. She'd insisted that she was okay to drive, it wasn't as if she were drunk or something, but Becker was adamant. And then, as though checking her off his to-do list, he turned back to the soldier he'd been speaking to.<p>

"Don't worry, ma'am," the sergeant - she thought his name was Smith, or Smythe, or something - said as she handed him her car key. "Your car will be waiting for you in the ARC's lot tomorrow."

She'd smiled noncommittally and turned back to her front door. _Ma'am? _she thought, climbing the stairs. _Why do soldiers always end up sounding like American cowboys?_ Jess had gone immediately to her bedroom, thankful that Abby and Connor were already asleep.

She'd sunk into her bed with a gratified sigh, feeling exhausted, but somehow couldn't fall asleep. Jess had tossed and turned, watching the hours tick by until she had to be up and at work again. _4:47. 5:21. 5:54. 6:10. 7:00._

Now she stifled a yawn against her fist at her post before the ADD. It was only an hour into the workday, and she was exhausted. She stood and headed for the break room. _Time for some caffeine._

* * *

><p>Jess wasn't at the ADD, and that was odd. Becker only needed to give her a few files, and could probably just leave them on her desk. Instead, he went to the break room, thinking it the most likely place to find her away from her precious ADD.<p>

Becker walked into the break room and found Jess dozing on the sofa, the only sound an occasional sputter from the coffee maker as it brewed a fresh pot. She was curled into the corner of the overstuffed leather sofa, her bare feet tucked under her, shoes on the floor before her. She was clutching a navy blue throw pillow to her chest, as if it were a life preserver, her head to one side, leaning against the back of the sofa.

Becker stood uncertain in the doorway. Normally he rather enjoyed her deer-in-the-headlights look whenever he surprised her, but he'd cut her some slack since she diffused a bomb the night before. _She did save my life after all, _he thought with a smile. He was still standing in the doorway, trying to figure out how to wake her without scaring her, when she started, sitting up. She looked around, blinking her eyes slowly, and jumped when she saw him.

"Becker! Hi! How long have I-" She looked over at the coffee maker, and seemed to calm down upon seeing that it hadn't finished. "Oh good. Not long."

She stood, walking to the cupboard above the coffee maker and pulling out her mug. It was a large neon green affair, complete with blue and white polka dots of various sizes. Very Jess. She then took down the honey and stepped to the fridge for the milk carton.

Becker simply watched for a minute, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

"Would you like a cup?" Jess asked, holding up the now finished pot. He shook his head, and she turned back to pour the coffee into her mug. After a moment, she turned again, a small frown between her brows. "Sorry, did you need something? I can't remember."

Becker straightened. "Yeah, I was ah... I was bringing you these." He held up the small stack of file folders.

She turned and walked over, cradling the mug between her hands and sniffing appreciatively.

"Thanks."

She took the files from him and gave him a sleepy smile as she passed, with a hint of something else, before walking back to her desk. Watching her leave, Becker sighed, leaning once more against the door jamb. _Very smooth Becker,_ he thought. _And what was that look? Disappointment?_

* * *

><p>By the end of the day, Jess was irritated, and that feeling was amplified by her lack of sleep. <em>You would think,<em> she thought crabbily, shutting off her laptop a bit more forcefully than necessary, _that saving someone's life would merit some sort of acknowledgment. A note. Anything!_ She stalked toward the locker room, frowning. _He acted like nothing happened when I saw him this morning. I saved you from being blown to kingdom come, buddy. I deserve a medal! I don't think a damn thank you note is asking too much!_

It took Jess three tries to open her locker; she kept spinning the dial past the correct number in her sleep-deprived frustration. The first thing to meet her eyes when she finally opened the metal door was a shiny, bright purple object on the top shelf, just at eye level. It was a bar of chocolate. Her favorite, plain dark chocolate. And taped to the top of the bar was a folded piece of white paper. She unfolded the sheet, plainly ripped from a company notepad, the ARC logo emblazoned across the top, and read the words in Becker's handwriting, her irritation ebbing away with each word.

_Jess - _it said - _I realized I never thanked you properly for saving my life last night. I'd like to make it up to you, and take you out to dinner. As a thank you. This Friday? 8 o'clock? - Becker_

* * *

><p>Becker was in his sanctuary - the armory - cleaning guns, his favorite coping mechanism. In this tiny corner of the ARC, he was in control. Things were ordered, routine. He had spent far longer than he'd like to admit writing that note to Jess, and now he was waiting to hear back from her. Although he'd never admit that. <em>Just fancied some late night target practice<em>, he tried to convince himself. But after completely destroying four paper targets, he stopped trying to distract himself and decided to head home. Removing his headphones, he pulled down the final, shredded target and threw it in the bin. At that moment, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out far more eagerly than he would have liked.

It was an email message. From Jess. He smiled_. _Trust her to send an email to his phone. Especially since she's the one who showed him how to get his emails sent to his phone. And by show him, he meant that she took his phone, rolling her eyes, and her fingers flew over the keys as she talked at the speed of light in words he didn't completely understand. A few minutes later, she handed his phone back, leaning over it to show him how to check his messages.

_B - I'd like that. Where are we going? -J_

* * *

><p>Jess' finger hovered over the "Send" button several seconds after she sent the message. She'd rewritten the message at least four times, and finally decided that the less she said, the less likely she was to make a fool of herself. <em>The less rambling, the better.<em> Then she'd made herself wait to send it until she'd driven all the way home. She didn't want to seem too eager. A wry grin pulled at her lips as she stared at her phone, still in the driver's seat of her car. _Who am I kidding?_

**Author's Note: I've been trying to write Jess and Becker's date, but my brain is not cooperating. If I get inspired, I'll add a second chapter with the date.**


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